#I am fascinated by the premise and I hope she's enjoying the card game part

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 16

"Peace of Mind” by Boston

[ilovedeadlypremonition]

Deadly Premonition director, Hidetaka “Swery” Suehiro, officially announced his upcoming “Debt Repayment Life Simulation RPG (with Cats)” The Good Life at his PAX West Panel this afternoon!

We already got a short teaser trailer a week or so ago after the”cat was let out of the bag” but now with Swery’s official announcement we have a brand new trailer, tons of concept art, the game’s crowdfund details, and thanks to the official press release a more detailed plot outline.

THE STORY

Based in an RPG-style town filled with fun activities and fascinating people, THE GOOD LIFE offers a thrilling, twisting murder mystery. At first glance, Rainy Woods looks like a normal country town in Northern England comprised of stone houses built in the Middle Ages, nestled in abundant nature and surrounded by forest. Looking deeper, however, Rainy Woods is home to a bizarre and deadly mystery. Throughout the day, the townsfolk work hard, look out for one another, love their families, and enjoy nightly drinks at the local pubs. Each character has a unique personality and lifestyle. Events change depending on the time of day, weather, and season. Even though some may argue that they live in a video game world, the townsfolk of Rainy Woods still worry, suffer, love, hate, and have fun as any real person would. Rainy Woods and its small English aesthetic exudes a unique sense of charm, fully realized when, in the dark of night, its villagers transform into cats.

Players star as Naomi, a photographer straddled with debt who moves from New York City to Rainy Woods. As an étrangère, players feel both alienated yet strangely comfortable as they must make friends, solve mysteries, and become emotionally invested in Naomi’s quest to make a life for herself in the happiest and most bizarre town in the world. To pay off her debt, she sends reports and photographs on villagers and their town as she uncovers its deadly secret.

THE GOOD LIFE is a mystery tale in the vain of Raymond Chandler or Conan Doyle. Players make a tragic discovery in the town’s river—the brutally murdered body of a young girl, her heart pierced by an ancient, medieval sword. Having first arrived in Rainy Woods to uncover the secrets of the happiest town in the world and payoff her debt, Naomi is thrusted into a bizarre mystery, setting her journalist heart ablaze as she sets her sights on revealing the truth behind the young girl’s murder.

THE GAME

Genre: Debt Repayment Life Simulation RPG Platforms: PC + TBD Console(s) Release Date: Q3 2019 Target Developer: White Owls

So we got a murder mystery/life sim, with cute cats, a cast of bizarre characters with their own 24 hours schedules, AND events that will change depending on the time of day, weather and season?

[More details, pictures and my thoughts under the cut!]

The Campaign

If you are as hyped as I am you can help make Swery’s new game a reality by contributing to The Good Life’s Fig campaign. The development team is hoping to raise at least $1.5M USD to bring a digital version game to both PC and consoles. Fans can lend support via traditional reward based backing or by investing in Fig game shares of the game. There’s a number or different tiers and rewards available for The Good Life ranging from simply receiving a digital copy of the game when it is released for $29 to actually becoming a character within the game as a reward for donating a whopping $35K! Though if any rich fans out there are considering the $35k tier please note that there’s a chance you might end up being brutally murdered in the game. (Yikes!)

Looking at all the tiers though I must say I’m a bit disappointed by the lack of any sort of physical rewards being offered. I mean a real signed message card from Swery is a lot more tempting than a digital one… But there seems to be some hope that this may change looking at the responses to some of the early “backstage” backers. It seems Swery and the campaign team are looking into the possibility of including some physical rewards in the future and are even asking for suggestions!

Personally I would love to see a physical copy of the game or an art/guide book myself! Heck a stuffed kitty Naomi or even a sheep would be pretty awesome additions too!

[Update!]  A physical award tier has been added and for $269+shipping you can get a package with some cool game swag! Now if you picked another tier don’t worry you can update your pledge and pick choose to add a number of DLC and physical items!

The Idea

Even though Swery’s announcement of a new game so soon after returning from retirement and opening his studio, White Owls, was kind of a surprise (or maybe it was just me?) it turns out Swery’s been developing the idea for The Good Life for quite awhile now.

According to the “SWERY’S Voice” video on The Good Life’s fig campaign page that describes the game’s inspiration, vision, and story the idea behind the game was sparked after Deadly Premonition’s producer (I assume Tomio Kanazawa) was suddenly transferred to London, England while Swery continued work on Deadly Premonition in Osaka, Japan. Swery was sad to be left behind but the long distance communication between the two ended up inspiring the idea of being sent to a rural English town and being unable to leave.

Swery’s initial idea continued to refine and expand in the back of his mind over the years even while developing, the now sadly incomplete, D4 – Dark Dreams Don’t Die.

Back in 2015 Swery took a brief retirement from game development to focus on recovering from reactive hypoglycemia and during this hiatus he finished the first draft of a murder mystery novel set in a British countryside town from the perspective of a cat.

I've been eager to hear more about his mystery book for while but now with the The Good Life's announcement I'm beginning to think Swery's novel may have inspired the whole investigating a murder mystery while as a cat angle of The Good Life game.

Now this connection between the game and novel it is pure speculation on my part at this point but given that both are revolve around a strange premise of cat investigating a murder in a rural England just seems way too coincidental.  Plus the novel's working title of " I Am Not a Cat " really makes me believe that the main character may have been a human at some point which is very similar to Naomi's situation in The Good Life as she only temporarily turns into a cat during the night while living Rainy Woods!

By the way the characters listed on the campaign page are kind of amazing…and here I thought the residents of Greenvale were a bit strange. I like how Swery seems to be continuing the tradition of a single black male among a caucasian population (who is also named the “totally normal cat” btw lol) and an insomniac who works with the dead. I wonder if the “person name Kaysen” that has occurred in Swery’s last three games (Spy Fiction, Deadly Premonition, and D4) will also continue in The Good Life?  It is also kind of amusing that the “Handsome Nurse” is known just as “Gay Cat” I’m guessing this means Naomi won’t be able to make any love connections with that bloke?

Game Mechanics

In The Good Life the story mission  focuses on three core points: paying off a huge debt, uncovering the town’s secret, and solving a murder of Elizabeth, the lone daughter of the village pastor.

Photography

Since Naomi is a professional photographer from New York it is no surprise that taking photos is a major gameplay mechanic featured in the game. The monetary rewards for Naomi’s daily reports will heavily factor around the quality and rarity of the photos players take during the day.

Capturing the perfect photo may prove to be a little difficult at first. You won’t actually know how any of your photos will turn out until they are developed them back at Naomi’s house and ranked as either a “success” or “failure” and only successful photos will be sent over to the client for rewards. As players progress through the game there will be opportunities to upgrade and even purchase special cameras that will help the players take better pictures.

Part- time Jobs

But taking photos and sending daily reports isn’t the only way Naomi can cut down her debt. The game also allows players to take a number of part time jobs around town including bartending at the local pub, delivering milk, shearing sheep and other rural tasks.

Some of these part time jobs will give the players opportunities to make a fortune but they can also be exhausting and some can even be dangerous so you have to choose your side jobs wisely!

Any money earned in these ventures can be put towards paying off the ever looming unpaid debt or spent on fun things for Naomi.

Customization

The Good Life is a RPG after all so it’s no surprise that as players progress through the game Naomi stats will improve and fun customizations for Naomi in both her human and cat forms can also be acquired. Naomi’s range of daily activity will expand based on her stamina and movement speed so the more points you earn or temporarily acquire via clothing will allow for more photo taking and fun activities during the day.

Life Maintenance and Stamina

…and speaking of stamina just like in Deadly Premonition and D4  it is important to keep Naomi well fed and rested during her stay in Rainy Woods. I’m pretty excited to see all the English dishes that will be available for consumption… There were a few dishes listed over on the campaign page including one of my favorites, Fish and Chips, which I have a feeling Naomi will end up eat a lot of during my own play through unless there happens to be a lot of smoked salmon…

But eating and sleeping isn’t the only thing players need to keep an eye on during Naomi’s stay they also must balance Naomi’s income so while she’s paying back her debt she will still have enough money left over to not only take care of her daily needs, but also have enough for the upkeep of her camera, the development of photos, and her daily shipments of reports back to New York.

The most surprising examples of one of her special expenses that’s listed over on the campaign page is the need to buy sanitary goods for Naomi once a month. It’s a normal expense in my own life but it’s something I’ve never seen mentioned let alone forced on a player to even consider while in control of a female protagonist before. It’s pretty amazing that sort of detail was even included!

I also thought that way alcohol consumption in the game is handled is really interesting as well. Giving Naomi alcohol will provide some high rewards in the short term as it will alleviate both her hunger and her thirst in one shot but if she continues to overindulge in drink throughout her stay she will develop a dependency for it. It’s pretty neat to see the real life consequence of addiction in a video game... I hope Rainy Woods also has a good 12-step program!

Special Events

The Good Life also features several seasonal events that offer special rewards. The game’s campaign didn’t go into a lot of details but in Spring there will be cherry blossom dance festival,  there’s a Tea Harvest in Summer, while during the Fall Naomi can harvest nuts and catch fat river fish, and in Winter  find minerals and maybe earn a present from Santa Claus(?)

Being a Cat

During the night while Naomi is in cat form players have the opportunity to investigate places you may not have access to while in human form and a chance to get closer to different villagers while they are in their cat forms by bringing them various trash…er I mean “kitty themed” presents…Some items you find while as a cat may even fetch a high price during the day and unlock some more special story events.

A few of the possible treasures a player can find are seen above...Hmm, I wonder if those “suspicious seeds” are anything like the ones you can find in Greenvale…

Graphics

As for graphics The Good Life’s campaign page describe them as being both “Nostalgic and Modern” using low polygon models with simple textures but also making use of CG-esque atmospheric lighting, fog, shadows, and glare elements well.

The game does look rather simple but it still has a very distinct and unique look. I’ve always prefered a great story over great graphics so I don’t mind the game’s simple design in the slightest :) I do think the sheep are really adorable in this art style though!

Atmosphere

If all of the features above hasn’t already peaked your interest maybe the Fig campaign description of The Good Life’s atmosphere will do the trick:

“THE GOOD LIFE has intriguing elements inspired by Twin Peaks. It will also feature the old-timey British traditions seen in classic shows such as Downtown Abbey and Poirot.  This is a Swery Game, so expect a healthy dosage of horror, mystery, humor and taboo topics that helped make Deadly Premonition such a cult hit.  Our humor will reflect some of the elements from Hot Fuzz and other classic British comedies.”

Man it was already a give-in that I would be excited for The Good Life since I’m such a big fan of Deadly Premonition (and Twin Peaks) but I can also expect some Hot Fuzz style humor too?!

Guys, Hot Fuzz is one of my all-time favorite films ever so this comparison has me even more excited to play the game!

Hmm… Rainy Woods is described as the “Happiest Town in the World” with the “happiest people on the planet” which is pretty similar to the situation of Sandford always winning “Village of the Year” in Hot Fuzz…I wonder does Rainy Woods have an equivalent of the Neighborhood Watch Alliance?

Hey Naomi, if the townsfolk start chanting about things being “all for the greater good” I would make run for it!

The Developers

The Good Life will be the  joint effort between three developers: Swery’s studio, White Owls, along with G-rounding and Camouflaj. Swery and his team will provide the creative and artistic direction for the game while G-rounding will manage the production and game creation and Camouflaj will provide both production support and supervision.

I really hope The Good Life’s Fig campaign is successful as it looks like a whole lot of fun. I’m eager to see how the game will come together and “enjoy my best life” in 2019

[spacs]

IgNoct-" things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear" please. thank you :)

So basically I’m deciding between two things because I still have this prompt twice, both for ignoct. More details at the end. Anyway, thank you so much for this! This is a fan.tas.tic prompt for these two and I was really hoping someone would send it! And it was sent twice, so boom. I hope you enjoy, anon!

It was their first night in Galdin Quay. They’d splurged onthe suite with plenty of alcoholic beverages in celebration of getting theRegalia fixed. The following morning they would be helping out that reporter,Dino-something, so they could move on to Altissia. For now, however, they wereenjoying card games and drinks as a group.

When Prompto begged him to go down to the beach for somephotos, Noctis relented. The blond had used his best pout and besides, Noct hadquite a few drinks in him at this point so it shouldn’t be too bad. Gladio andIgnis declined to offer to join and the shield poured both of them anotherdrink.

The beach was nice. It was warm but a cool breeze blewthrough and kept both of them comfortable in the sticky, salty, sandy air. Thewind ruffled Noct’s hair, making for quite a few funny looking pictures – a lotof which turned out to be fuzzy or blurry because Prompto was having a hardtime holding the camera still.

During one of their giggling fits, Prompto spotted Ignis onthe balcony of their room. He grinned like a maniac and pulled Noct by the armto hide underneath. He shushed Noct’s quiet giggles. “I’m gonna take a coupleshots then we can make weird sounds and freak him out,” he whispered, his wordsslurred.

The sliding door to the room opened and Gladio’s heavyfootsteps sounded above them as he joined Ignis on the balcony. Prompto fistpumped and motioned for Noct to stay where he was while he tripped his way intoa different position for a better angle. The prince tried to silence himself ashe fell back onto the sand.

“So what’re we doin’ out here?” Gladio asked after a long momentof silence.

“Trying not to think,” Ignis answered, his voice low andonly carrying just loud enough for Noct to hear.

The shield’s sigh that followed was deep and the boards ofthe balcony creaked as he leaned against the railing. “About the wedding,” hefilled in the remainder of the sentence. “So you’re still…”

Ignis’ laugh was bitter and through the cracks of the boardsNoct looked up to see him drop his head between his shoulders. “I am so in lovewith him,” he confirmed.

Noctis felt like his heart stopped in his chest and suddenlyhis legs felt as if they weighed a million pounds. He was rooted to the spot, inebriationmaking his head swim and Ignis’ confession echoed through his thoughts. In love with him. The prince put a handover his mouth as his breath started to come too quickly and his heartbeatsounded like thunder in his ears.

“I am such a fool,” Ignis continued, completely unaware ofthe conflict in the sand beneath his feet.

“Nah,” Gladio said back, slinging an arm over the advisor’sshoulder. “You just have bad taste in men.”

A scoff. “Noct couldn’t be further from bad taste.”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with pining for an engaged future-king,who you technically work for?” Gladioasked sarcastically.

“That aside, Noct is…” Ignis paused, searching. “Wonderful.”

“You’re drunk,”Gladio chuckled.

“Drunk and sad,” Ignis replied in disgust, the last wordrolling off his tongue like a curse.

Silence followed and Noct could only stare up at his friendsfrom below the balcony. Quiet footsteps in the sand drew his attention away asPrompto returned, the look on his face clear. “Dude,” he whispered.

“C’mon, let’s go back inside,” Gladio pulled Ignis away fromthe rail. “You’ll sleep this off and feel better.”

The advisor snorted but let himself be led inside, leaningheavily against the larger man. “More, I’ll sleep and be able to repress again.”

The door closed behind them with a click that made Noctwince. Prompto was staring at him wide-eyed, his camera still poised in hishands. “Dude,” he repeated, with moreurgency.

“Shut up,” Noct bit back, but the blond seemed undeterred.

“Iggy’s crushing on you,” Prompto hissed.

“Yeah, I got it,” Noct jerked his thumb upwards to theirroom. “Can we go, please?”

Prompto nodded and stumbled as they stood. He had to drapehimself across Noct so the prince could help him walk. “I’m not gonna rememberany of this,” he muttered into Noctis’ shirt.

The prince just hummed in response and half-carried Promptodown the docks and back to their room. Gladio was about to close the door tohis shared bedroom with Ignis before Noct caught his attention. “Help,” Noctpleaded, trying to hoist the blond up.

The shield chuckled and moved to help him, helping Nocttransfer their sleeping friend into Gladio’s arms. “Switch rooms with me?” Noctasked as Gladio swung Prompto up bridal-style.

He shrugged. “Sure. Iggy’s already sleeping though, so justbe quiet.”

“Already?”

Gladio nodded, adjusting Prompto in his arms when the blondmade to nuzzle against his chest. “Yeah he had a lot. Too much. He’s good at hiding it until he’s really tired so Imade him lay down and then he was out.”

Noct nodded, casting a glance to where Ignis was sleepingbehind the door. “Okay,” he answered. “Get him a trash can for the morning,” headded, gesturing to Prompto. “He’s going to hurl when he wakes up.”

A look of disgust crossed Gladio’s features. “Great.”

With that, they separated into their shared rooms. Noctispadded into the bedroom, his thoughts still one-tracked but hazy. Ignis was onhis side, facing inward on the bed. His head was balanced on his arm,outstretched over his head, and his lips were parted as he slept. Gladio hadneglected to remove the advisor’s glasses, so when Noct climbed into bed nextto him, he gently pulled the spectacles over his nose. The advisor stirred, hisface scrunching at the intrusion which was probably the cutest thing Noctis hadever seen Ignis do and it made his heart beat in a funny way.

“Noct?” Ignis asked groggily when his eyes zoned in on theprince.

“Gladio switched rooms with me,” he whispered back, glassesstill in hand.

“Is something the matter?” If not for the slur in Ignis’speech, Noct would hardly know Ignis was anything but tired.

He shook his head in reply. “No, Prompto is just reallydrunk and I can’t carry him.”

Ignis nodded and his eyes fell closed again, nestling downinto the bed with a soft smile and, okay, thatwas the cutest thing he had ever seen Ignis do. Noct stretched over Ignis’torso to toss his glasses on the side table nearest to him when he heard asharp intake of a breath. “Noct, what—”

“Your glasses,” Noctis said hurriedly, backing off. “Justputting your glasses down. Sorry.”

Ignis blinked slowly at him then shook his head. “No apologynecessary. You only startled me.” His head went back down and his eyes closedonce more as he took a deep breath. Noctis shuffled under the blankets andstarted to turn to face away from Ignis when the advisor quietly murmured, “Butit’s nice to have you near.”

The prince stopped again, looking over his shoulder. He bithis lip nervously, then turned back around. He settled down on the bed thenslid over to Ignis, bringing both his arms between their bodies before nestinghis head under his advisor’s chin. This time Ignis didn’t flinch. Instead, hisarms uncoiled and slid around Noctis’ waist to pull him in. Lips connected withNoct’s forehead with a brief kiss before Ignis rested his cheek on top of hishead.

It felt like something out of a dream – a dream Noct had hadbefore. Sometimes in a romantic context and other times… well, they had lessclothes on. He’d always known his feelings for Ignis went beyond friendship andprivately he’d admitted that it was probably love. But hearing Ignis drunkenlyconfess to Gladio has only confirmed his own feelings but solidified the despondencythat a ‘something-more’ relationship was unattainable.

They were on the way to his wedding. To Luna, who, Noct reminded himself, was absolutelyfantastic. But she wasn’t Ignis. Butterflies didn’t flutter in his stomach atjust the mention of her name. While he cherished their shared journal, it didn’tfill him with excitement just to talk to her every day. He didn’t want toalmost always be around her. No, thatwas Ignis. Ignis, who would stay late even when he had to be at class in themorning, just because Noct had a rough day at school. Ignis, who, despite therumors, had an amazing sense of humor and never failed to make Noctis laugh. Ignis,who’s mere presence was like gravity and Noct always found himself hoveringjust to be near him.

And now Ignis had his arms wrapped tightly around him andwas taking steady, content breaths as he drifted back to sleep. Noct tilted hishead up to kiss Ignis’ jaw.

“Goodnight Specs.”

“Sleep well, love.”

I am fascinated by a drunk-Ignis. I don’t think it’s something that would happen often, but I find it very interesting.

Okay so my options are: I have a second idea for this prompt. It’s something I’ve been itching to write (and I’ll probably write it even if I go with option two) and it fits pretty well with this prompt, just slightly off. But the prompts are more like guidelines rather than actual rules (thanks POTC). Now option two would just a continuation of this. It would be a chapter two of this since I have a few idea for the morning after. We all know that I love a good morning-after fic (aka the entire premise of give me shelter).

So if anyone has any opinion on that, let me know. The likelihood of me writing both is fairly high, especially if I keep up with this roll that I’m on. But if anyone has an opinion, that’ll be the one that gets done first/at all. Just drop me an ask or a comment on the AO3 post.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, anon! And to the other anon that also requested this prompt, I hope you enjoy too! If either one of you that sent this have a opinion on what you’d rather see, just let me know.

[theconservativebrief]

Maniac, a new, darkly comic Netflix miniseries starring Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, is the rare project that I like both more and less the longer I think about it.

By the time it reaches the midpoint of its 10 episodes, the series is one of the more confident and assured examples of what I call “Big Moment TV,” where every episode involves some jaw-dropping visual or conceit that’s meant to send you to Twitter to buzz, “Did you see that?!”

And as directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga, the genius (and newly minted James Bond director) behind everything from the wonderful 2011 Jane Eyre to the visuals of the first season of True Detective, those moments really land. I wanted to go to Twitter to talk about them, except that would have been a violation of my screener agreement with Netflix.

And yet there’s something so calculated about Maniac. There’s rarely the thrill of the unexpected, which is tough to explain in a series that longs, deeply, to provide the thrill of the unexpected. Every time the story would shift, or enter another genre entirely, or let the actors play other characters than the ones they came in as, I would nod and say, “Sure. Makes sense!” Which is not what I think anybody involved was going for.

Some of that stems from performance (Hill is a fine dramatic actor but maybe not the guy you want sublimating all of his live-wire energy to play a depressive), and some of it stems from the storytelling, which is a wackadoodle pastiche of “mind-fuck cinema,” in which the movies ask you to question reality and wonder what’s going on and so on.

But not only have you seen the basic dramatic beats of Maniac over and over again, but Maniac takes great pains to explain to you, at every turn, what’s going on, how the characters feel and think about it, and what those crazy, trippy visuals could mean. It’s a mind-fuck movie so unconfident in its ability to fuck with you that it follows up every big reveal or jaw-dropping mindscape with a moment that seems to ask, “Did you see what I did there?”

This probably already sounds like a bunch of ideas thrown together in haste, which don’t really cohere. It is, and it isn’t, and to explain why, I’m going to have to spoil the show almost in its entirety, so follow me after the massive spoiler warning to talk about why it’s easy to remain interested in Maniac but hard to become truly invested in it.

The rise of Big Moment TV has been driven by two factors. The first is that TV storytelling has grown more complex in terms of serialization, but the second is that lots of people still kind of half pay attention to what they’re watching, because they’re doing chores or playing a game on their phone or whatever. So if you watch an episode of Game of Thrones and there’s a big, bloody death or something, that jars you out of whatever other thing you’re doing and forces you to pay attention.

But, increasingly, these sorts of shows feel driven less by the whims of their characters than by the whims of their creators. Game of Thrones went from a show that made you feel the weight of every death to a show that wantonly killed characters without much regard to emotional resonance or storytelling sense. And that’s, ultimately, part of the fun of that show, but it took it from a must-watch to a fun show that often struggles to reach its potential.

But Big Moment TV has increasingly evolved to a point where it’s less about a big death or a big plot twist and more about anything unusual that will get you talking on Twitter, as I explored in this article about The Magicians and Legion. And those two shows form useful comparison points for Maniac, with its occasionally fascinating, occasionally awkward attempts to fuse Big Moment TV, over-explanatory mind-fuck pastiche, and what amounts to falling asleep in front of Netflix. (It was an early adopter of Big Moment TV, lest we forget House of Cards’ entire storytelling ethos.) All while the algorithm randomly shuffles through things it thinks you might like.

(And really do turn away at this point if you want to remain unspoiled about this series, because knowing the premise of this show could potentially ruin it.)

The story focuses on Annie (Stone) and Owen (Hill), two 20-somethings struggling with barely repressed trauma and other mental conditions in a near-future New York where everything, including friendship, has become a part of the gig economy. You can even sell your likeness for various ads and stock photos, as Annie has done, which means that when Owen bumps into her at a purported pharma trial for a new drug, he both feels he already knows her and fears he’s hallucinating her. (He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, see.)

In one episode, Owen and Annie become stuck in some sort of espionage thriller. Netflix

Anyway, the drug trial turns out to be a complicated procedure designed to put people through a sort of psychological boot camp, where in stage one they relive their greatest trauma (the loss of her sister for Annie; a suicide attempt — that might not have even happened — for Owen), attempt to better understand the roots of their psychological issues in stage two, and then confront those issues and their trauma in stage three, in hopes of healing and moving on.

The trial is overseen by a group of people cosplaying as the characters erasing Jim Carrey’s memories in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, including Justin Theroux, the dryly funny Sonoya Mizuno, and (I swear I am not kidding about this) Sally Field playing a depressed computer.

The bulk of the series involves what happens when a mechanical malfunction results in the fusing of Owen and Annie’s subconsciouses, which results in them essentially entering an anthology series. Across five of the season’s 10 episodes, they play different characters, in different genres, following what amounts to Fukunaga’s syllabus for a “history of American indie film” class. There are suburban capers, and an extended (kinda awful) journey through a gangster/crime movie tale, and a story where Owen becomes a hawk. (That last one’s a lot of fun!)

This is, I think, a pretty compelling way to explore two characters who seem paper-thin at first. By having Annie and Owen journey through both of their subconsciouses at once, the show could theoretically fill in details about these people’s core beings while still allowing for plenty of action and adventure. Seeing Annie as a Long Island housewife trying to steal a lemur, or as a con artist interrupting a seance, or as a half-elven ranger in a generic fantasy kingdom gives us different sides of the actual Annie’s persona and lets Stone have a lot of fun.

But I could never escape the feeling that the show’s weirdness was less an organic investigation of two people in crisis and more a mechanism designed to keep me watching. The journeys that Annie and Owen take through their brains feel assembled more from other movies and TV shows than from genuine psychological exploration.

On a show limited only by the human imagination (at least in theory), these adventures stay frustratingly earthbound. They’re “imaginative,” in the manner of a college student who’s carefully cultivated her persona out of bits and pieces of other personas she’s seen elsewhere, rather than authentic.

The strange facility where Owen and Annie bond is a weird setting unto itself. Netflix

It feels a little churlish to complain about this, because watching Maniac is a lot of fun. I sat down intending to watch a couple of episodes one day and ended up watching seven, because I really did want to see what would happen next. The writing staff — led by Patrick Somerville of The Leftovers fame — has given real thought to the story of all 10 episodes as well as the story of each episode, which leads to fun journeys through the various genre pastiches the writers come up with. (I loved the Long Island-set crime caper, which felt straight out of a Coen brothers movie.)

But I could never get past the stage where I was enjoying the show’s considerably gorgeous surfaces to access some deeper level. And then after watching the finale, I read a quote from Fukunaga in a recent GQ profile of him, and something clicked. He said:

Because Netflix is a data company, they know exactly how their viewers watch things. So they can look at something you’re writing and say, We know based on our data that if you do this, we will lose this many viewers. So it’s a different kind of note-giving. It’s not like, Let’s discuss this and maybe I’m gonna win. The algorithm’s argument is gonna win at the end of the day. So the question is do we want to make a creative decision at the risk of losing people. …

There was one episode we wrote that was just layer upon layer peeled back, and then reversed again. Which was a lot of fun to write and think of executing, but, like, halfway through the season, we’re just losing a bunch of people on that kind of binging momentum. That’s probably not a good move, you know? So it’s a decision that was made 100 percent based on audience participation.

Now, listen, the notes-giving process in Hollywood is important. I’m not somebody who rails against notes, or thinks they ruin the creative process or tear down impeccable works of art. But something about letting a computer give those notes speaks to why Maniac, ultimately, felt less human than human to me, why it always seemed like it was assembled more than it was a deeply felt passion project for anyone. And, indeed, the series is based on a Norwegian show of the same name, and the various genre pastiches look a lot like other Netflix shows if you squint, and every single actor feels specifically chosen to appeal to a very specific demographic.

This would almost feel like Netflix snarkily commenting on itself if the show didn’t take itself so seriously. The fact that it turns into a genuinely sincere story of how Owen and Annie come together to better each other’s lives in the last few episodes is either the bold swing that saves the enterprise or a case of too little, too late. I’m more in the former camp than the latter, but it’s not hard for me to imagine talking myself out of that stance.

And yet there’s something kind of beautiful about a series that applies the dull plotting of most other TV shows — all life-and-death stakes and, “We’ve gotta get to the [plot device] before they do!” numbness — to two emotionally damaged people trying to heal. There’s a bravado here that I can’t write off, even if I never felt like the show went deep enough to turn either Owen or Annie into anything more than ciphers, despite all of the self-analyzing monologues both deliver in an attempt to sell their complexities.

Whatever complaints I have about the show, then, might be a part of its commentary on a world where our mental horizons are so often occupied by stories we’ve heard elsewhere. If you and I somehow had our subconsciousnesses fused, and then went through a series of adventures in dreamspace together, wouldn’t it be more likely that those adventures would be drawn from the movies and TV shows we had watched than something wildly original?

Maniac isn’t weird enough to really achieve what it wants to, but it does say something — however accidentally — about how reality is already weird enough. Maybe that’s why we’re so content to live inside the dreams of others.

Maniac is streaming on Netflix.

Original Source -> Netflix’s Maniac, with Jonah Hill and Emma Stone, is either too weird or not weird enough

via The Conservative Brief

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/netflixs-maniac-with-jonah-hill-and-emma-stone-is-either-too-weird-or-not-weird-enough/

Netflix's Maniac, with Jonah Hill and Emma Stone, is either too weird or not weird enough

Maniac, a new, darkly comic Netflix miniseries starring Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, is the rare project that I like both more and less the longer I think about it.

By the time it reaches the midpoint of its 10 episodes, the series is one of the more confident and assured examples of what I call “Big Moment TV,” where every episode involves some jaw-dropping visual or conceit that’s meant to send you to Twitter to buzz, “Did you see that?!”

And as directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga, the genius (and newly minted James Bond director) behind everything from the wonderful 2011 Jane Eyre to the visuals of the first season of True Detective, those moments really land. I wanted to go to Twitter to talk about them, except that would have been a violation of my screener agreement with Netflix.

And yet there’s something so calculated about Maniac. There’s rarely the thrill of the unexpected, which is tough to explain in a series that longs, deeply, to provide the thrill of the unexpected. Every time the story would shift, or enter another genre entirely, or let the actors play other characters than the ones they came in as, I would nod and say, “Sure. Makes sense!” Which is not what I think anybody involved was going for.

Some of that stems from performance (Hill is a fine dramatic actor but maybe not the guy you want sublimating all of his live-wire energy to play a depressive), and some of it stems from the storytelling, which is a wackadoodle pastiche of “mind-fuck cinema,” in which the movies ask you to question reality and wonder what’s going on and so on.

But not only have you seen the basic dramatic beats of Maniac over and over again, but Maniac takes great pains to explain to you, at every turn, what’s going on, how the characters feel and think about it, and what those crazy, trippy visuals could mean. It’s a mind-fuck movie so unconfident in its ability to fuck with you that it follows up every big reveal or jaw-dropping mindscape with a moment that seems to ask, “Did you see what I did there?”

This probably already sounds like a bunch of ideas thrown together in haste, which don’t really cohere. It is, and it isn’t, and to explain why, I’m going to have to spoil the show almost in its entirety, so follow me after the massive spoiler warning to talk about why it’s easy to remain interested in Maniac but hard to become truly invested in it.

The rise of Big Moment TV has been driven by two factors. The first is that TV storytelling has grown more complex in terms of serialization, but the second is that lots of people still kind of half pay attention to what they’re watching, because they’re doing chores or playing a game on their phone or whatever. So if you watch an episode of Game of Thrones and there’s a big, bloody death or something, that jars you out of whatever other thing you’re doing and forces you to pay attention.

But, increasingly, these sorts of shows feel driven less by the whims of their characters than by the whims of their creators. Game of Thrones went from a show that made you feel the weight of every death to a show that wantonly killed characters without much regard to emotional resonance or storytelling sense. And that’s, ultimately, part of the fun of that show, but it took it from a must-watch to a fun show that often struggles to reach its potential.

But Big Moment TV has increasingly evolved to a point where it’s less about a big death or a big plot twist and more about anything unusual that will get you talking on Twitter, as I explored in this article about The Magicians and Legion. And those two shows form useful comparison points for Maniac, with its occasionally fascinating, occasionally awkward attempts to fuse Big Moment TV, over-explanatory mind-fuck pastiche, and what amounts to falling asleep in front of Netflix — an early adopter of Big Moment TV, lest we forget House of Cards’ entire storytelling ethos — while the algorithm randomly shuffles through things it thinks you might like.

(And really do turn away at this point if you want to remain unspoiled about this series, because knowing the premise of this show could potentially ruin it.)

The story focuses on Annie (Stone) and Owen (Hill), two 20-somethings struggling with barely repressed trauma and other mental conditions in a near-future New York where everything, including friendship, has become a part of the gig economy. You can even sell your likeness for various ads and stock photos, as Annie has done, which means that when Owen bumps into her at a purported pharma trial for a new drug, he both feels he already knows her and fears he’s hallucinating her. (He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, see.)

In one episode, Owen and Annie become stuck in some sort of espionage thriller. Netflix

Anyway, the drug trial turns out to be a complicated procedure designed to put people through a sort of psychological boot camp, where in stage one they relive their greatest trauma (the loss of her sister for Annie; a suicide attempt — that might not have even happened — for Owen), attempt to better understand the roots of their psychological issues in stage two, and then confront those issues and their trauma in stage three, in hopes of healing and moving on.

The trial is overseen by a group of people cosplaying as the characters erasing Jim Carrey’s memories in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, including Justin Theroux, the dryly funny Sonoya Mizuno, and (I swear I am not kidding about this) Sally Field playing a depressed computer.

The bulk of the series involves what happens when a mechanical malfunction results in the fusing of Owen and Annie’s subconsciouses, which results in them essentially entering an anthology series. Across five of the season’s 10 episodes, they play different characters, in different genres, following what amounts to Fukunaga’s syllabus for a “history of American indie film” class. There are suburban capers, and an extended (kinda awful) journey through a gangster/crime movie tale, and a story where Owen becomes a hawk. (That last one’s a lot of fun!)

This is, I think, a pretty compelling way to explore two characters who seem paper-thin at first. By having Annie and Owen journey through both of their subconsciouses at once, the show could theoretically fill in details about these people’s core beings while still allowing for plenty of action and adventure. Seeing Annie as a Long Island housewife trying to steal a lemur, or as a con artist interrupting a seance, or as a half-elven ranger in a generic fantasy kingdom gives us different sides of the actual Annie’s persona and lets Stone have a lot of fun.

But I could never escape the feeling that the show’s weirdness was less an organic investigation of two people in crisis and more a mechanism designed to keep me watching. The journeys that Annie and Owen take through their brains feel assembled more from other movies and TV shows than from genuine psychological exploration.

On a show limited only by the human imagination (at least in theory), these adventures stay frustratingly earthbound. They’re “imaginative,” in the manner of a college student who’s carefully cultivated her persona out of bits and pieces of other personas she’s seen elsewhere, rather than authentic.

The strange facility where Owen and Annie bond is a weird setting unto itself. Netflix

It feels a little churlish to complain about this, because watching Maniac is a lot of fun. I sat down intending to watch a couple of episodes one day and ended up watching seven, because I really did want to see what would happen next. The writing staff — led by Patrick Somerville of The Leftovers fame — has given real thought to the story of all 10 episodes as well as the story of each episode, which leads to fun journeys through the various genre pastiches the writers come up with. (I loved the Long Island-set crime caper, which felt straight out of a Coen brothers movie.)

But I could never get past the stage where I was enjoying the show’s considerably gorgeous surfaces to access some deeper level. And then after watching the finale, I read a quote from Fukunaga in a recent GQ profile of him, and something clicked. He said:

Because Netflix is a data company, they know exactly how their viewers watch things. So they can look at something you’re writing and say, We know based on our data that if you do this, we will lose this many viewers. So it’s a different kind of note-giving. It’s not like, Let’s discuss this and maybe I’m gonna win. The algorithm’s argument is gonna win at the end of the day. So the question is do we want to make a creative decision at the risk of losing people. …

There was one episode we wrote that was just layer upon layer peeled back, and then reversed again. Which was a lot of fun to write and think of executing, but, like, halfway through the season, we’re just losing a bunch of people on that kind of binging momentum. That’s probably not a good move, you know? So it’s a decision that was made 100 percent based on audience participation.

Now, listen, the notes-giving process in Hollywood is important. I’m not somebody who rails against notes, or thinks they ruin the creative process or tear down impeccable works of art. But something about letting a computer give those notes speaks to why Maniac, ultimately, felt less human than human to me, why it always seemed like it was assembled more than it was a deeply felt passion project for anyone. And, indeed, the series is based on a Norwegian show of the same name, and the various genre pastiches look a lot like other Netflix shows if you squint, and every single actor feels specifically chosen to appeal to a very specific demographic.

This would almost feel like Netflix snarkily commenting on itself if the show didn’t take itself so seriously. The fact that it turns into a genuinely sincere story of how Owen and Annie come together to better each other’s lives in the last few episodes is either the bold swing that saves the enterprise or a case of too little, too late. I’m more in the former camp than the latter, but it’s not hard for me to imagine talking myself out of that stance.

And yet there’s something kind of beautiful about a series that applies the dull plotting of most other TV shows — all life-and-death stakes and, “We’ve gotta get to the [plot device] before they do!” numbness — to two emotionally damaged people trying to heal. There’s a bravado here that I can’t write off, even if I never felt like the show went deep enough to turn either Owen or Annie into anything more than ciphers, despite all of the self-analyzing monologues both deliver in an attempt to sell their complexities.

Whatever complaints I have about the show, then, might be a part of its commentary on a world where our mental horizons are so often occupied by stories we’ve heard elsewhere. If you and I somehow had our subconsciousnesses fused, and then went through a series of adventures in dreamspace together, wouldn’t it be more likely that those adventures would be drawn from the movies and TV shows we had watched than something wildly original?

Maniac isn’t weird enough to really achieve what it wants to, but it does say something — however accidentally — about how reality is already weird enough. Maybe that’s why we’re so content to live inside the dreams of others.

Maniac is streaming on Netflix.

Source: https://www.vox.com/culture/2018/9/21/17884512/maniac-netflix-review-emma-stone-jonah-hill

[theconservativebrief]

Maniac, a new, darkly comic Netflix miniseries starring Emma Stone and Jonah Hill, is the rare project that I like both more and less the longer I think about it.

By the time it reaches the midpoint of its 10 episodes, the series is one of the more confident and assured examples of what I call “Big Moment TV,” where every episode involves some jaw-dropping visual or conceit that’s meant to send you to Twitter to buzz, “Did you see that?!”

And as directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga, the genius (and newly minted James Bond director) behind everything from the wonderful 2011 Jane Eyre to the visuals of the first season of True Detective, those moments really land. I wanted to go to Twitter to talk about them, except that would have been a violation of my screener agreement with Netflix.

And yet there’s something so calculated about Maniac. There’s rarely the thrill of the unexpected, which is tough to explain in a series that longs, deeply, to provide the thrill of the unexpected. Every time the story would shift, or enter another genre entirely, or let the actors play other characters than the ones they came in as, I would nod and say, “Sure. Makes sense!” Which is not what I think anybody involved was going for.

Some of that stems from performance (Hill is a fine dramatic actor but maybe not the guy you want sublimating all of his live-wire energy to play a depressive), and some of it stems from the storytelling, which is a wackadoodle pastiche of “mind-fuck cinema,” in which the movies ask you to question reality and wonder what’s going on and so on.

But not only have you seen the basic dramatic beats of Maniac over and over again, but Maniac takes great pains to explain to you, at every turn, what’s going on, how the characters feel and think about it, and what those crazy, trippy visuals could mean. It’s a mind-fuck movie so unconfident in its ability to fuck with you that it follows up every big reveal or jaw-dropping mindscape with a moment that seems to ask, “Did you see what I did there?”

This probably already sounds like a bunch of ideas thrown together in haste, which don’t really cohere. It is, and it isn’t, and to explain why, I’m going to have to spoil the show almost in its entirety, so follow me after the massive spoiler warning to talk about why it’s easy to remain interested in Maniac but hard to become truly invested in it.

The rise of Big Moment TV has been driven by two factors. The first is that TV storytelling has grown more complex in terms of serialization, but the second is that lots of people still kind of half pay attention to what they’re watching, because they’re doing chores or playing a game on their phone or whatever. So if you watch an episode of Game of Thrones and there’s a big, bloody death or something, that jars you out of whatever other thing you’re doing and forces you to pay attention.

But, increasingly, these sorts of shows feel driven less by the whims of their characters than by the whims of their creators. Game of Thrones went from a show that made you feel the weight of every death to a show that wantonly killed characters without much regard to emotional resonance or storytelling sense. And that’s, ultimately, part of the fun of that show, but it took it from a must-watch to a fun show that often struggles to reach its potential.

But Big Moment TV has increasingly evolved to a point where it’s less about a big death or a big plot twist and more about anything unusual that will get you talking on Twitter, as I explored in this article about The Magicians and Legion. And those two shows form useful comparison points for Maniac, with its occasionally fascinating, occasionally awkward attempts to fuse Big Moment TV, over-explanatory mind-fuck pastiche, and what amounts to falling asleep in front of Netflix — an early adopter of Big Moment TV, lest we forget House of Cards’ entire storytelling ethos — while the algorithm randomly shuffles through things it thinks you might like.

(And really do turn away at this point if you want to remain unspoiled about this series, because knowing the premise of this show could potentially ruin it.)

The story focuses on Annie (Stone) and Owen (Hill), two 20-somethings struggling with barely repressed trauma and other mental conditions in a near-future New York where everything, including friendship, has become a part of the gig economy. You can even sell your likeness for various ads and stock photos, as Annie has done, which means that when Owen bumps into her at a purported pharma trial for a new drug, he both feels he already knows her and fears he’s hallucinating her. (He was diagnosed with schizophrenia, see.)

In one episode, Owen and Annie become stuck in some sort of espionage thriller. Netflix

Anyway, the drug trial turns out to be a complicated procedure designed to put people through a sort of psychological boot camp, where in stage one they relive their greatest trauma (the loss of her sister for Annie; a suicide attempt — that might not have even happened — for Owen), attempt to better understand the roots of their psychological issues in stage two, and then confront those issues and their trauma in stage three, in hopes of healing and moving on.

The trial is overseen by a group of people cosplaying as the characters erasing Jim Carrey’s memories in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, including Justin Theroux, the dryly funny Sonoya Mizuno, and (I swear I am not kidding about this) Sally Field playing a depressed computer.

The bulk of the series involves what happens when a mechanical malfunction results in the fusing of Owen and Annie’s subconsciouses, which results in them essentially entering an anthology series. Across five of the season’s 10 episodes, they play different characters, in different genres, following what amounts to Fukunaga’s syllabus for a “history of American indie film” class. There are suburban capers, and an extended (kinda awful) journey through a gangster/crime movie tale, and a story where Owen becomes a hawk. (That last one’s a lot of fun!)

This is, I think, a pretty compelling way to explore two characters who seem paper-thin at first. By having Annie and Owen journey through both of their subconsciouses at once, the show could theoretically fill in details about these people’s core beings while still allowing for plenty of action and adventure. Seeing Annie as a Long Island housewife trying to steal a lemur, or as a con artist interrupting a seance, or as a half-elven ranger in a generic fantasy kingdom gives us different sides of the actual Annie’s persona and lets Stone have a lot of fun.

But I could never escape the feeling that the show’s weirdness was less an organic investigation of two people in crisis and more a mechanism designed to keep me watching. The journeys that Annie and Owen take through their brains feel assembled more from other movies and TV shows than from genuine psychological exploration.

On a show limited only by the human imagination (at least in theory), these adventures stay frustratingly earthbound. They’re “imaginative,” in the manner of a college student who’s carefully cultivated her persona out of bits and pieces of other personas she’s seen elsewhere, rather than authentic.

The strange facility where Owen and Annie bond is a weird setting unto itself. Netflix

It feels a little churlish to complain about this, because watching Maniac is a lot of fun. I sat down intending to watch a couple of episodes one day and ended up watching seven, because I really did want to see what would happen next. The writing staff — led by Patrick Somerville of The Leftovers fame — has given real thought to the story of all 10 episodes as well as the story of each episode, which leads to fun journeys through the various genre pastiches the writers come up with. (I loved the Long Island-set crime caper, which felt straight out of a Coen brothers movie.)

But I could never get past the stage where I was enjoying the show’s considerably gorgeous surfaces to access some deeper level. And then after watching the finale, I read a quote from Fukunaga in a recent GQ profile of him, and something clicked. He said:

Because Netflix is a data company, they know exactly how their viewers watch things. So they can look at something you’re writing and say, We know based on our data that if you do this, we will lose this many viewers. So it’s a different kind of note-giving. It’s not like, Let’s discuss this and maybe I’m gonna win. The algorithm’s argument is gonna win at the end of the day. So the question is do we want to make a creative decision at the risk of losing people. …

There was one episode we wrote that was just layer upon layer peeled back, and then reversed again. Which was a lot of fun to write and think of executing, but, like, halfway through the season, we’re just losing a bunch of people on that kind of binging momentum. That’s probably not a good move, you know? So it’s a decision that was made 100 percent based on audience participation.

Now, listen, the notes-giving process in Hollywood is important. I’m not somebody who rails against notes, or thinks they ruin the creative process or tear down impeccable works of art. But something about letting a computer give those notes speaks to why Maniac, ultimately, felt less human than human to me, why it always seemed like it was assembled more than it was a deeply felt passion project for anyone. And, indeed, the series is based on a Norwegian show of the same name, and the various genre pastiches look a lot like other Netflix shows if you squint, and every single actor feels specifically chosen to appeal to a very specific demographic.

This would almost feel like Netflix snarkily commenting on itself if the show didn’t take itself so seriously. The fact that it turns into a genuinely sincere story of how Owen and Annie come together to better each other’s lives in the last few episodes is either the bold swing that saves the enterprise or a case of too little, too late. I’m more in the former camp than the latter, but it’s not hard for me to imagine talking myself out of that stance.

And yet there’s something kind of beautiful about a series that applies the dull plotting of most other TV shows — all life-and-death stakes and, “We’ve gotta get to the [plot device] before they do!” numbness — to two emotionally damaged people trying to heal. There’s a bravado here that I can’t write off, even if I never felt like the show went deep enough to turn either Owen or Annie into anything more than ciphers, despite all of the self-analyzing monologues both deliver in an attempt to sell their complexities.

Whatever complaints I have about the show, then, might be a part of its commentary on a world where our mental horizons are so often occupied by stories we’ve heard elsewhere. If you and I somehow had our subconsciousnesses fused, and then went through a series of adventures in dreamspace together, wouldn’t it be more likely that those adventures would be drawn from the movies and TV shows we had watched than something wildly original?

Maniac isn’t weird enough to really achieve what it wants to, but it does say something — however accidentally — about how reality is already weird enough. Maybe that’s why we’re so content to live inside the dreams of others.

Maniac is streaming on Netflix.

Original Source -> Netflix’s Maniac, with Jonah Hill and Emma Stone, is either too weird or not weird enough

via The Conservative Brief